Last weekend I went back to my home at Mount Wudang. We are supposed to be in the classroom by 2.30 pm every Sunday. After an early lunch, therefore, I headed for the bus station around 12.

Like me, a lot of my contemporaries who attend school in the city had to come and take Bus 202, which plies between downtown and Wudang. We piled in and the vehicle was thus packed with adolescent riders.

Around this hour every Sunday, it is consequently the noisiest time on Bus 202, for almost everyone is babbling away, sharing their life with their friends.

It was no exception when I got aboard last Sunday. The main characters on this bus ride were the driver, a veg farmer and a lady.

At one stop along the route, a woman veg seller was going to come on board with two large baskets of greens. Casting a glance at her load, the driver complained, “Aunt, the bus is crammed full. Your baskets are huge. And so many students are travelling today. Why not take the next one?”

A lot of passengers joined him and chanted in chorus, “Woman, your baskets are huge.” The veg seller looked awkward.

In the nick of time, a smartly dressed lady on the bus stood up. Having removed her big suitcase from the floor luggage rack, she beckoned the farmer to come on. Then she put the veg seller’s two cumbersome baskets where her suitcase had been. The old woman expressed her appreciation profusely.

Problem solved, the driver shut up. Our trip resumed.

A couple of stops on, the veg pedlar had to get off. Her two monstrous baskets became a hassle again. Some juvenile passengers, together with the driver, accused her of causing too much trouble.

Without any fuss, the elegant lady took the bulky baskets off the rack. Navigating her way through the horde down the aisle, she lugged them out of the bus.

After the lady reboarded, the veg seller, standing by the highway, said thanks loudly to her.

The driver, out of curiosity, inquired of the lady, “Is she your relative?”

My reader, you should know the answer.